Touch of Death
by MissFuneralSong
Summary: A woman who kills with a single touch, and a man who can't die. This is the tale of their Roaring Rampage of Revenge. 5YG Universe, set after 5YG. Starring Adam and an OC - not shipped. Some KenseiYaeko later on, although I hate her. CH4 UP! R&R please.
1. Chapter One

AN: Welcome to my newest fic! The idea of a Mohinder-themed spin-off of Dreams never really got off the ground, but maybe some day... Anyway, enjoy this 5YG story - an incredibly fun to write exploration of insanity!

_Touch of Death_

_Chapter One_

_She could still feel it in her mind – the beating of their hearts, their life force draining out of them and filling her with power, her head pounding and her ears ringing as, screaming for her to stop, they slowly died. She would always be able to feel it. The pounding never stopped, just dimmed. The ringing became softer, almost inaudible, but it was still there. The memory would remain for ever. It would plague her...for ever._

-

It was midnight, and a freezing wind blew through the desolate streets of New York City, sending dust and rubble skittering across the ground. The great city, once thriving and alive, had died in the explosion five years ago, like so many hundreds of thousands of its citizens. Some remained, though. After the Linderman Act had been passed, ordering the arrest and imprisonment of all people with unusual abilities, many of the so-called 'Specials' had gone into hiding. The ruins of New York were one of a handful of places where they came, as large and full of places to hide as it was.

One such person, a young woman named Joanna Mooney, stood on the roof of the abandoned Deveaux Building, staring out over the distant and half-collapsed rooftops to the crater that had once been Kirby Plaza. Even though it was the middle of the night, she had no desire to sleep. She never did, not for the past two years. Fatigue plagued her constantly, made her go strange in the head, but she considered what happened when she slept to be much worse. Sleeping led to dreams – but, for her, they were always nightmares.

Joanna was finding, lately, that the nightmares continued even when she was awake. When she blinked, she could see them, the shadows and demons of the past. Out of the corner of her eye she saw monsters sneaking up on her, but whenever she turned to catch them out they disappeared. It was _them_, she knew, she could feel it; they'd come back to haunt her because of what she'd done. And they were everywhere.

-

This was it. After all this time, centuries, he would finally have his revenge...

The Deveaux Building was there, before him, tall and dark and weighted with his expectations. _I have you now, Hiro, _thought Adam gleefully. _I have you. And I am going to _savour _killing you._

-

Joanna walked back inside to get out of the cold air, grabbing a blue jacket from the open suitcase on the floor near the doorway to the roof. All of her clothes were blue; it made her feel calmer. She heard a sound from the direction of the elevator and whirled around, shuffling back cautiously with her hands raised like talons, but there was nothing there. It was dismissed as one of the shadow creatures trying to frighten her, and she wandered over to the mangy, threadbare blue reclining chair that she'd stolen from the home of someone she presumed was now dead, sitting down on it with a sigh and closing her eyes. Moonlight seeped into the building like thick syrup, having to struggle to penetrate the gloom, and she could see its glow on the inside of her eyelids. The usual grey shadows tangled with it, hiding screaming faces in their depths, but there was one, right in the middle, that was darker than the rest and didn't move, as they did. It seemed more solid, more _real_. Joanna, eyes still shut tight, frowned in puzzlement. There had never been one like _that _before...

She carefully opened her eyes. Then she let out a yell of surprise, leapt from the chair and dove behind it.

Adam stood, staring at the chair with cold, disappointed eyes, although 'disappointed' isn't a very accurate description; it was more like a searing pain and rage and agony, the crushing of all his hopes and desires, a desperate starvation, the most terrible thing he had ever felt. This was the last floor. The _last floor _in the entire building, and Hiro _wasn't here_.

Lost for the words to describe his feelings, Adam instead said, 'Who are you?' He decided that this lacked a certain something, and added, 'Where is Hiro Nakamura?'

From behind the chair, he heard a squeaked, fearful reply. 'You stay away from me! You can't get me! I killed you once, I can do it again!'

Adam's brow furrowed. '"Killed" me? What are you talking about?' He took a tentative step forward and paid for it. Joanna sprang to her feet and, in a blur, Adam was laying flat on his back, the girl kneeling on his chest and looking down at him fiercely, terror in her eyes. She put her hands on his face and hissed, '_Die_, you bastard!'

It was the last thing he knew before the world turned white.

-

Now that she had a good look at him, Joanna realised – too late – that he wasn't a ghost after all. He was just a man. A handsome man, at that, with blonde hair and blue eyes like hers, only lighter. His face was perfect – not symmetrical, but still somehow perfect. She stared intently at him for several minutes, admiring the way that death had no effect on his magnificence. He hadn't even lost the colour in his cheeks. If Joanna looked at him from the right angle and squinted a bit, he looked as though he was still breathing. Carefully, gently, she reached out a hand and stroked his face; funny thing, he was still warm too...

With a huge, deep gasp, the man opened his eyes and sat up straight as an arrow. Joanna squealed in fright and fell back onto her bottom, gaping at him as he clutched at his head, breathing heavily like he'd just run ten miles.

'What did you...do to me?' he spluttered.

'I – I...' Joanna shook her head in disbelief, eyes wide with astonishment. 'I killed you. But you're not dead. You came back to life somehow! How did you _do _that?'

Adam's breathing settled a little, and he looked Joanna up and down for the first time. She had messy dirty-blonde hair, blue eyes so dark they were almost black, and a small pointed nose that was perfect for looking down at people with. An air of unhingedness hung around her like bees around someone who smashed up their beehive.

He appeared to be hesitating to answer her question. After a while, he said simply, 'It's what I do.'

'Oh.' This seemed to satisfy her, so Adam began an interrogation of his own.

'What about you?' he asked. 'What did—no, first of all, who are you? And where is Hiro?'

'Who?'

Adam sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. _His perfect nose, _Joanna thought. _And he's so _different; _he does strange things like me. I wonder what he thinks of me, I wonder if he thinks I'm pretty..._

However, he wasn't thinking, at that moment, anything about Joanna. He was more concerned with thoughts of Hiro, how that _betrayer_ had slipped away again. _He stole the woman I loved, _Adam was thinking to himself. _He stole her away from me and then just _left _her. And he goes around free and happy while I've endured four centuries of pain and sadness and I've been imprisoned and killed so many times... But he's the one that deserves to die. He deserves to _die_!_

The fact that Joanna had begun talking to him barely registered in his mind until she reached out and clicked her fingers right under his nose, looking deeply affronted.

'Hey!' she said irritably. 'You asked me who I am, so here am I trying to answer you and you just go and zone out on me! While I'm talking! Talk about rude.' Joanna put her hands on her hips, lips pursed.

'I'm sorry,' said Adam, gesturing for her to continue. 'Please go on, miss.'

'Right then.' With a self-satisfied expression, the girl went into a long monologue about various things, many of which made no sense; there was a lot of mentions of 'shadow things' and 'ghosts from before' and Adam, listening with polite blankness, wondered vaguely what these were. From the parts of it that had been a bit less nonsensical, he'd managed to glean that her name was Joanna Mooney, she was eighteen and had been living in New York for three of those years, and her family was dead. That wasn't very much information for as long as she took to impart it.

'And what about your ability?' Adam interrupted, in the middle of a seemingly never-ending sentence about the quality of the produce in Florida. 'I mean that thing you did to me?'

'Oh, that,' she said dismissively, waving a hand as if to indicate that killing Adam had been a very minor point in her day. 'I can kill people if I want to. I've just got to touch them, then _pop_ – dead as a doornail. Just like that.'

It was difficult for him to hide the awe on his face and the greed in his voice. 'Incredible,' he breathed, grinning like a fox tailing a slow rabbit. Then something Joanna had said jumped to the forefront of his train of thought. 'You said your family died? Did you...?' He let his voice trail off; in that context, the words 'did you' can say a _lot_.

Joanna's face went pale suddenly, and she glanced around into the corners of the room. When she spoke, she was looking Adam firmly in the ear, trying to see both him and the space behind him simultaneously. 'They were yelling,' she said, her words barely a whisper; Adam had to lean forward to hear her. 'They yelled at me because I touched the cat and it died. I didn't know it would, but they still were yelling at me... And then I touched them, and they were screaming.' She shivered, eyes flashing with forgotten horrors. 'And then... And then they weren't anymore.'

Joanna turned her head to stare directly at Adam, and her eyes were so wide and mad, she was so obviously deranged, that he instinctively drew back from her.

'But they're still here,' she whispered. 'I see them, when I'm not looking properly. They're always here. In my head. Always screaming.'

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter Two

_Touch of Death_

_Chapter Two_

_Joanna had been fifteen that day. Only barely fifteen; the previous day had been her birthday. Her present was a new kitten, fluffy and white with big, lamplike blue eyes and a fuzzy, tapered tail that wriggled when it was hungry. It was a boy and she'd named him Hector._

_That day..._

_She'd been playing with Hector, dangling a toy mouse for him to whack with his paw. He'd gotten fed up with waiting for her to give it to him and jumped onto her hand, scratching her accidentally and giving her a fright. And then...he fell off her. He was limp and lifeless. She screamed for help. Her parents rushed in to see what was wrong, and—_

_There had been such a lot of screaming, that day._

-

Adam had had an idea.

Joanna sat quietly and listened as he told her about the people he used to work with. They were terrible people, he said, cruel and selfish. He'd had power, so much power, and they'd locked him up because they were jealous of him. They wanted to run _his _Company so much that they'd imprisoned him for so many years. Adam had barely escaped with his life. Now he wanted to give them all exactly what they deserved.

But they have powers too, he told her. He can't do it alone, he said. He needed help.

'I can help,' she breathed, completely enraptured by him. 'I want to help.'

Adam smiled dazzlingly and Joanna basked in it. In her mind, it felt like the first warm kiss of the sun after winter. _How could anyone lock him up? _she thought. _How could anyone want to hurt him? Well, I did, _she conceded. _But that was an accident._

'Would you?' he said. She nodded and he went on: 'Miss Mooney, you're such a charming woman, so kind to offer assistance to a poor soul like me in my hour of need.'

Joanna looked down at the floorboards and mumbled something to the theme of 'it's no trouble', then she stood up and strolled over to her suitcase, extracted a backpack from it and began piling clothing into it.

'So where are we going first?' she asked over her shoulder. 'Who are we going to go after?'

Eyes glinting with malice, Adam unfolded himself from the recliner that he'd commandeered and moved to stand beside Joanna, gently brushing some of her hair out of her face. She smiled up at him with the brightness of a woman in love, but he didn't notice. He was too busy thinking how much he'd enjoy it when they killed—

'Kaito Nakamura,' he said. 'It has to be Kaito first.'

-

The money for the plane tickets to Japan appeared from somewhere, although Joanna had no idea where. Adam probably got it at the same time as the fake IDs, that hour that he disappeared into the city on 'business'. And they were _good _fakes. She had seen a lot, but none 

of them so convincing as these. They declared her and Adam to be Mr and Mrs John and Nellie Davenport of Portland, Oregon, a nice newlywed couple who were travelling to Japan on their honeymoon. She caught herself at one point during the flight thinking how nice it would be if that were true. Joanna wished that Adam would pay more attention to her, but he was far too preoccupied with making a list of the people they were to kill, a list of first names only so that, if anyone asked, he could pretend they were discussing baby names. The paper read:

Kaito

Angela

Robert

Maury

Victoria

Daniel

Joanna, her curiosity piqued, leaned over to whisper to him. 'It says "Daniel" there. Is that Daniel _Linderman_?'

'That's right,' Adam answered her, not looking up from the list. After some deliberation he wrote, slowly and carefully, and in larger letters than the other names: 'Hiro'.

' "Hiro",' Joanna mouthed. Then she addressed her companion: 'You asked about Hiro before, didn't you? Who is h - '

'That's my business,' snapped Adam, turning to stare silently out of the window. Joanna took this to mean that conversation had ended for the rest of the plane ride. She settled down into her first-class seat and shut her eyes. It was funny, she mused as she drifted into sleep. The shadows didn't follow her around at all today. And she couldn't see them there on the insides of her eyelids the way she usually did. It was a strange thing, but since last night when she had killed Adam...well, she hadn't seen any of the ghosts and demons that were normally always on the edges of her vision. It was like he'd chased them away.

-

Kaito Nakamura had been at home all day. Since hearing of his son's recent death, and his daughter Kimiko's more recent suicide attempt, he never had the energy to do anything very much, especially not go to work. Instead he spent most of his time in the drawing room of his huge Tokyo mansion, reading and rereading the tales of the hero Kensei that Hiro used to love so much.

He was all alone in that big house now, with far too much space for just him. The loneliness at times became excruciating, but Kaito knew that it was his own fault, and the faults of the others who had once dared to dream of a better world for their kind. The sins of the past haunted him, and would do so until the day he died. He could endure the loneliness, because it was nothing compared to the guilt.

As he sat in silence and half-darkness, reading _Kensei and the Dragon_, there came a faint noise from the entryway. Kaito glanced up from the yellowing pages, remembering that he had not armed the security system yet. He placed a marker in the book, stood and walked slowly and cautiously toward the source of the sound, staying close to the walls for some semblance of stealth.

Kaito reached the entrance and peeked around the wall to see whether anyone was there, but it was deserted as usual. Relieved, attributing it to his mind not being what it used to be, he opened the cover on the alarm system console and went to set it, when—

'Hello, Kaito. So nice to see you again, old friend.' The voice came from the darkness behind him, and it was a voice he recognised; in fact, it was a voice he'd never forget. Kaito knew his former friend well enough not to make a move. He stayed facing the front door.

'Good,' said Adam. 'I see that old age hasn't eroded your mind just yet. You still know what I'm _capable _of. Very good.'

'What are you doing here, Adam? You are supposed to be locked away!'

Adam smiled. 'Yes, well, I would have expected you to know better. You can't lock me up in one of _my _own facilities and expect me to stay there. Compliments on your English, by the way, it's improved since the last time we spoke.'

Joanna was watching in absolute awe, eyes darting back and forth between the two men like she was watching a tennis match. Decades' worth of tension was crackling in the air.

'You can turn around now, Kaito,' said Adam. The man did so, and his gaze lingered on Joanna's face.

'Who is this young lady?' he asked stiffly. 'Another poor soul you have fooled into thinking they are doing the right thing?'

Joanna bristled with indignation. 'I'm no "poor soul", mister! Adam didn't _trick _me into anything, I _chose _to help him!'

Kaito stared at her for several seconds more than was comfortable, pity clearly visible on his face. 'I would not be so sure of that, miss,' he said.

'Silence.' This was from Adam, glaring darkly at the other man like he would love nothing more than to wrap his hands around Kaito's throat to silence him permanently. Without removing his eyes from Kaito, he said, 'Show him what you can do, Joanna. On the flowers, if you please.'

There was a vase on a plinth in the corner of the room, not fragile porcelain like one would expect in such a wealthy man's home, but a huge, heavy bulky thing made from some kind of tough resin. There were fresh cherry blossom cuttings sitting in it; Kaito's late wife had always made sure there were live flowers somewhere in her house, and after her passing he'd felt compelled to continue this tradition. Joanna strode over to it, unable to hide her excitement and glee. She took a breath and grasped the stems loosely, closing her eyes in unnecessary concentration.

Kaito looked on in horror as the pink flowers turned a dark black and fell to the floor. The stems shrivelled and crumbled into lumpy dust. Opening her eyes again, Joanna brushed her hands together to dislodge the remains of the flowers and grinned menacingly at Kaito.

'I can see from the look on your face, mister,' said Joanna, enjoying herself more than she ever had, 'that you're guessing at what's in store for you. You're a very perceptive one.'

'He is indeed, my pet,' said Adam distantly, a look of hunger appearing on his face as he continued eyeing his enemy. Joanna beamed at the words 'my pet', but he didn't pay her any mind.

'Now,' he growled, stepping forward and beckoning for the girl to follow. 'Tell me. Where is your son? _Where is Hiro_?'

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter Three

_Touch of Death_

_Chapter Three_

'My son is dead,' Kaito answered, looking fearful behind his mask of dignity. He had every reason to be fearful; this was clearly not the answer Adam wanted to hear.

'You're lying,' he snarled, advancing on the older man until their faces were an inch apart. 'I can tell.'

'I am not lying, Adam. Hiro is dead, and has been for months.'

'That's a lie!' snapped Adam, striking Kaito across the face so hard that he stumbled sideways. 'Tell me the _truth_!'

Joanna watched in terrified admiration as Adam kicked the man in the stomach. Kaito fell to the ground and Adam continued to beat him, furious to the point of madness, asking him again and again where Hiro was. Kaito, bruised and bloodied, would give the same reply every time: 'He is dead! Dead!' But this wasn't good enough for Adam; he refused to believe that, after so many centuries waiting and searching and accumulating allies, his greatest betrayer could have died mere _months _before Adam came looking for him. He gave the poor old man a savage kick in the face and walked angrily over to where Joanna stood. Kaito rolled over onto his back, panting and clutching at his broken nose, barely able to remain conscious.

'Kill him,' Adam ordered.

'But,' objected Joanna, 'he didn't tell you where - '

'_Kill him_,' Adam repeated, more firmly this time. 'I don't want to have to tell you _again_!'

'All right.' Joanna took a few tentative steps towards the fallen man, arms outstretched. She glanced back at Adam, then laid her hands gently on Kaito's forehead, ready to extract the life from him. Kaito stared defiantly at Adam.

'Whether you kill me or not, it does not matter,' he croaked. 'You will never find Hiro. My son is _dead_.'

Adam had been looking at the heavy vase as Kaito said this, with an expression of absolute fury. Now he picked it up in one hand, strode over to Kaito and shoved Joanna roughly out of the way with the other hand.

Leaning down so that his lips were close to the other man's ear, Adam whispered, 'You're lying, Kaito. I know he's alive. I can _feel _it. I will find him and I will _kill _him, just as I'm about to kill you.' He moved his head away from Kaito and raised the vase up behind it. He gave a satisfied smirk as Kaito eyed it with horror, then brought it down as hard as he could on the man's skull. There was a sickening _crack_.

Throwing the thing down beside the now-dead man, Adam stood, turned to the delighted Joanna and said, as casually as if he hadn't just brutally murdered someone, 'Well? Don't just stand there, my sweet. Help me up with this.'

Together – and Joanna rather felt that the activity made them closer – they dragged the body of Kaito Nakamura up the stairs.

-

The next day, the grisly death of Mr Nakamura was plastered all over international news broadcasts. Angela Petrelli sat in the living room of her home, which was spacious but not as spacious as the one in New York had been, sipping her coffee and surveying the news with dark eyes. Her hands were shaking as she set her cup back down on the coffee table; if someone had gone after Kaito, in his own home, then... She shivered. Angela knew full well who was responsible. There could only be one man.

She slowly got up from the couch and walked up the narrow staircase to her bedroom, where she rummaged through a drawer in her night-table and pulled out a slim, leather-bound address book. Picking up the phone receiver from beside her bed, she flipped through the pages until she found the one she was looking for, and dialled the number. The person on the other end answered on the second ring.

'Hello,' she said, somewhat hoarsely, 'this is Angela. Petrelli, Angela Petrelli.' There was a pause while the callee replied, then Angela said, 'Suresh gave it to me. Look, I wouldn't've called, but it's an emergency. Kaito Nakamura is dead.'

There was a longer pause this time. 'Are you still there?' asked Angela. The other person obviously was, because she went on, 'Yes, I do, as a matter of fact. It was someone – we used to work with him. We all trusted him, even thought of him as a friend, but then...I don't know, something happened. He felt that "our kind" were more _worthy _than others. We locked him away before he could do much more damage than he'd done already, but he got out. Now he's looking for revenge, against all of us. Kaito was the first, but there'll be more.'

The callee replied again. 'Yes, that's right,' said Angela, fear seeping into her voice. 'It's only a matter of time before he comes here for me and I'm _scared_. Please. I need your help. My son trusted you, so I do, too. You're the only one left that I can turn to. _Please_, will you help me?'

Another pause. A reply. Angela closed her eyes and let out a sigh of relief.

'Thank you. I'll call again with a meeting place. See you soon.' She hung up.

-

Kaito Nakamura had had a number of very valuable items in his house, many of which were now snugly piled inside a duffel bag, along with some men's clothes, that was being carried by Adam. He had gotten them some new phony identification for the flight back to the States; they were Kate and Leonard Jones, brother and sister, children of a wealthy hotel manager, who were moving back to America from Japan, where they had lived for the past two years. That was good enough to explain why they were carrying so many expensive items, and Adam told the woman at the check-in counter, when she asked, that the rest of their possessions had been air-freighted over three days previously from a different airport. Joanna had no idea what he was saying when he told the woman this, however, because he was speaking fast and fluent Japanese. She did catch a mention of their fake names, though, and also the word 'hoteru', which she assumed meant 'hotel'.

When they were settled into their First Class seats, Joanna saw Adam take out the list again and cross off 'Kaito'. After a short moment of deliberation, he drew a circle round 'Hiro' and wrote underneath it, 'getting closer'.

Silence was making her uncomfortable, so Joanna felt she ought to make some kind of conversation. 'So, I couldn't understand you talking to the check-in girl,' she said quietly. 'Where are we going this time?'

Adam stuffed the paper back into his pocket and turned to her, smiling a smile that melted her spine. 'California,' he told her. 'We're going for Maury Parkman next.'

The name rang a few bells in Joanna's head, but she couldn't quite place it, so she nodded and stared dreamily out of the window, risking the occasional surreptitious glance in Adam's direction. _He likes me, _she thought happily. _He must do. Why else would he smile at me and call me his pet and all that? And after we finish all this, this mission...then we can settle down. Get married, maybe have some kids. _Joanna leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, totally content. _That'll be the life. We'll be so happy together._

Little did she know, Adam's plans for marriage and happiness didn't involve _her_.

-

_He thought back to that time. Japan, 1671, just after the incident with Hiro, when he exploded. It had taken a while for him to recover from that, and by the time he had, everyone had just assumed he was dead. Hiro was gone, probably teleported back from whence he'd come. Yaeko – the name was still painful – Yaeko was still there. Sometimes, Adam would go to her father's forge and watch her, making sure to stay out of sight. She kept on a brave front for her father's sake, but she was miserable._

_She missed Hiro. It killed Adam that she cared so much for him, so much that she'd betrayed him, Adam, when he'd thought she loved him. He had planned to kill her, but what was the point? Hiro would never know that he'd done it, and besides...how could he do that to someone he'd loved so much? Someone he...still loved._

_So he left. Back to England, then a couple of centuries later to America, to wait for the day when he'd finally be able to get his revenge. The day when he'd finally be able to kill Hiro._

_Lately, though – in the past few years – Adam had been thinking about Yaeko often. He wanted to see her again, try and get her to realise that _he _was the one she really loved. He had a plan to make that happen: when he found Hiro, before he killed him, he would force Hiro to take him back. Back to Yaeko. Back to the woman he loved. Then, after being angry for so long, he could put it all behind him at last, and be happy._

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter Four

_Touch of Death_

_Chapter Four_

Angela Petrelli sat in a booth seat, looking uncomfortable and extremely out of place, in a seedy nightspot in Las Vegas. Unfortunately for her, the person whose help she'd enlisted had told her very firmly that this was the only place safe enough for them to meet. She glanced around at the club's patrons, nervously clutching her handbag close to her as if expecting one of them to try and steal it. Angela tried very hard to ignore the scantily-clad young women dancing on raised platforms all around her, but it was difficult as one of them was right beside her table.

A person masked by the shadows and unevenly flashing lights of the nightclub sidled up to her table on the other side and said, 'Angela Petrelli?'

Her head snapped round to face the newcomer. 'That's right. Are you -?'

'Yes.' The person sat down next to her and flagged down a waitress, ordering a scotch for himself and 'another one of those things she's drinking' for Angela. Then, as the waitress scurried away, he glanced around suspiciously and turned to face Angela. 'Nice to meet you,' he said, offering a hand.

She took it and they shook politely. Smiling a tight little smile, clearly unhappy to be in this establishment, she replied, 'A pleasure, Mr Nakamura.'

Now it was his turn to smile. His face was so lined with weariness beyond his years that the smile looked like it had appeared there by accident and was trying to sneak away without being noticed. 'Call me Hiro,' he said.

-

Adam and Joanna got off the plane at LAX and, with money they'd gotten by selling some of Kaito's antique end-tables in Japan, they hired a rental car. It was about six years or so old, but still sleek and shiny. It was a black Nissan Versa, the only car left in the place.

'We'll have to go to Santa Clarita,' said Adam, as he drove. 'That's where Maury Parkman is living now. It's not far.'

'You know, I've heard that name, "Parkman", somewhere before,' mused Joanna, fiddling with the radio until she found a station that was playing a marathon of the greatest love songs ever written. She was hoping it'd give Adam ideas.

'His son, Matt, is the head of Homeland Security,' Adam replied, adjusting the rear-view mirror and apparently being completely oblivious of the sappy music. 'He's been on the news a fair bit lately. Arrested a lot of fugitive Specials. Like that's something to be proud of,' he added irritably.

Joanna stared out the window, absently mouthing along with Elton John's _Your Song_ and becoming increasingly more frustrated with the fact that Adam didn't feel the urge to lean over and kiss her. She told herself to give it time.

-

Maury Parkman, not unlike Kaito Nakamura, didn't go anywhere very much nowadays. Apart from buying groceries and paying his bills, he never had any reason to leave his apartment. Most of the time he stayed in, watching the news for any reports about his son. Occasionally 

Maury would also amuse himself by using his telepathic abilities to gently probe the minds of his neighbours, but that was about the height of excitement for him.

At the moment, he was fetching himself a glass of milk and listening to the woman across the hall's thoughts on her husband's suspected infidelity, which were: _If he is cheating, that'll finally give me an excuse to get rid of him. He's a fool of a man, and a nuisance. Good riddance, I say._ Maury's apartment was in silence most of the time, which was why he was able to hear the sudden faint scratching from the front door, almost like someone was trying to pick the lock...

Maury reached carefully into the vegetable tray in his refrigerator and pulled out a large, dirty and slightly rusted shotgun, along with a small box of ammunition which rattled; it was the rattle of something that was almost empty. Edging his way to the door, he loaded two bullets into the gun and aimed it at the entrance as the intruder or intruders continued to fiddle with the flimsy lock. The front door swung open on creaking hinges and—

_Bang! Bang!_

The man who had gone to step inside got a chestful of ammo. He fell to the floor, leaking bright red blood. There was a woman behind him; she screamed in horror and, as Maury tried to reload the shotgun, she ran towards him, slapped him hard in the face...and that was the last thing Maury Parkman ever knew.

Joanna raced back to Adam and knelt by his side, opening his torn shirt in order to attempt to stop him bleeding. She gasped in amazement as she saw the gaping bullet holes knitting themselves back together, the blood drying rapidly into scabs and then those, too, disappearing. He sat up so suddenly that Joanna gave a squeal, and began hacking and coughing violently, spitting up a great deal of blood before at last bringing up the two large bullets, which were both slightly crushed by the force of expulsion from the shotgun and coated in rust to match it. Adam flicked them aside, picked up the firearm from the fallen Maury, stood and surveyed his accomplice with immense satisfaction.

'Nice work,' he said.

-

Angela sipped her drink and removed a photograph from her purse, sliding it across the table to Hiro, who took it. One glance and his eyes were bulging in shock. He spat most of his drink out over a passing waitress, who shrieked and ran into a back room, looking extremely harassed. Hiro didn't care about this, however, because he was too busy goggling at the photo in so much disbelief that his face couldn't hold it, so it leaked out and Angela could feel it floating around in the air like dust.

'_This _is _him_?' spluttered Hiro, wiping alcohol off himself with a napkin. 'This is the guy killing your friends? _Him_?'

Angela looked puzzled. 'You know him?'

'Know him!' exclaimed Hiro. 'Know him! He tried to _kill _me!'

'Yes, well, he seems to do that a lot,' replied Angela, unimpressed with the outburst, which was earning the two of them stares from the kind of people she would rather not get stares from.

'No, you don't understand! He tried to kill me _in 1671_!'

Angela reached over and slapped him sharply on the shoulder. 'Stop that. You're making a complete fool of yourself, _and _me because I have the misfortune of sitting with you. Stop it!' The tone was so motherly that Hiro couldn't help but comply.

'I'm sorry, Mrs Petrelli,' he mumbled sheepishly, staring down at his clasped hands. 'But...well, I thought Takezo Kensei was dead. I thought I _saw _him die!'

She gave him a long, penetrating stare that told him he was being foolish again. 'A lot of people think _you're _dead,' she said flatly. 'It doesn't seem to be slowing you down very much.' Taking the picture from him and returning it to her handbag, she added, 'Besides, Takezo Kensei isn't his real name. It's Adam Monroe.'

Hiro was at a loss to explain why the words 'he tried to kill me in 1671' didn't seem to be getting through to Angela. She just continued to speak conversationally, as if people who were nearly four hundred years old were a feature of normal, everyday life.

He tried speaking more slowly, in case she wasn't hearing him properly. 'But, Mrs Petrelli, how can he still be alive? That'd make him three hundred and forty! That's impossible!'

'Three hundred and sixty-seven, roughly,' Angela corrected, 'and it's certainly only as impossible as somebody who travels through space and time, isn't it? He can heal himself. The skin cells he had that started to decay with age healed themselves. It's as simple as that. Anyway, his age isn't the issue here, Hiro – he is _killing _people, and he must be stopped before he kills the only people on this earth who can stand against him.'

Hiro decided that this explanation was reasonable enough, and changed his manner back to businesslike. 'So do you have any idea where he is now?'

'Somewhere in this country, definitely. Kaito – your father – was the only one of us who lived abroad. Now that Adam has done away with him...' She let her voice trail off. Hiro's eyes darkened at the mentions of his father's death, and so did Angela's. He found that curious, but chose to let it slide for the moment.

'Somewhere in the States, right,' he said. 'Can you tell me anything a little less vague and a little more helpful?'

Angela frowned at him. 'I'm not a mind reader, you know, and I'll have none of your cheek, young man. I can give you _this -_' here she pulled her leather-bound address book out of her bag and handed it over – 'but I'm afraid you'll have to hazard a guess at which one of us he'll go after next. I wrote down all the names and addresses you need on the back page.'

Hiro turned to the back and read the names, mouthing the words as he did. When he'd finished, he snapped the thin volume shut and slipped it into a pocket. Turning to Angela, he looked her straight in the eye and saw how totally out of her depth she was – and she saw the same of him. Desperate for a place to begin, Hiro asked her, 'Do you have _any _idea who the next target'll be? Maybe just a hunch?'

Angela swallowed and considered this nervously for a minute. Then she said, 'Bob. Robert Bishop.'

_To be continued..._


End file.
